The Tale of the Blind Warden
by Zarkovagis9
Summary: Duncan has found a new recruit: a blind wanderer of the wilderness.  Invoked by the Right of Conscription, he reluctantly follows Duncan to Ostagar to battle the Darkspawn and to become a Grey Warden.
1. Prologue: The Unlikely Recruit

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age universe or Bioware.

_Prologue: The Unlikely Recruit_

Deep in the Southron Hills, Duncan sat by the fire, the dark of night surrounding him. He stared deep into the fire, the light dancing upon his creases and wrinkles. He felt old, wearied and tired. He had searched across all of Ferelden in hopes of finding a recruit to join the Grey Wardens. From Highever to Denerim, from Orzammar to the Brecilian Forest. Now, he was out of time. Ferelden was running out of time.

Throughout all of his travels, he had not been able to find a single recruit worthy. Sure, he found Ser Jory in Highever and later found the cutpurse Daveth in Denerim. Both of these men impressed him, for sure, but it wasn't enough. The Grey Wardens needed more men to increase their numbers. Cailan needed more Grey Wardens to assist him. Always more. Need drove him to search and now, he had found nothing.

Duncan sighed as he prodded the fire, eating up both the night and the wood. Duncan no longer knew what to do, where to go. There was nowhere else he could do in the time he had left. Would he go back to Ostagar empty handed? It would seem that that would be his only choice left.

Unless this follower of his made his move.

Since he had moved into the Hills, a man had followed him. He had kept his distance and taken all the proper steps to not be seen, to be sure, but Duncan was a seasoned warrior. Not wanting to get caught up in a needless fight, Duncan had taken steps to lose his attacker. But time and time again, he would walk up a hill and find the follower on the hill behind him, walking after him. It was intriguing. So now, he sat here, waiting for him to make his move.

Duncan could feel him moving around him in the darkness, amongst the trees and the tall grass. Sometimes, the crack of broken grass would betray his location; other times, it was merely the movement of the grass against his skin. Duncan already knew that this man was patient and cautious, like a wolf stalking his prey. Duncan was already finding this man interesting. And he was experienced.

The follower struck.

He was a blur that dashed through the tall grass, shooting across the fire with only a slight glint betraying his weapon. Duncan cocked his head and the blade flashed past his face. Duncan was finally able to study his attacker up close and personal, in the light of the fire.

He was as young as Alistair, or at least he guessed so; his face was obscured by long hair, which was tied into a ponytail in the back. He wore loose fitting leather armor, down to his boots. Straps covered his thighs, arms and chest and attached to those straps were knives. Hundreds of knives. Duncan wasn't sure if he had ever seen so many knives on a single person before. They were well worn, and Duncan was sure that his attacker knew how to use them. Though the weapons he wielded now were two long swords, one of elvish make and the other of human. The curved elvish sword he wielded in his left hand in a reverse grip, the blade protecting his upper arm. The human sword was by Duncan's ear, not even wavering.

The sword turned and slashed across the air towards Duncan's neck. Duncan already had his sword out and ready, meeting the blade with a loud clang. The attacker punched forward with his left arm, slashing the air with his elvish blade. Duncan brought up his dagger and met the elvish blade with another loud clang.

The attacker pushed forward, knocking Duncan on his back. Duncan put his foot in his attackers stomach and pushed him over his body. The attacker rolled across his back and found his footing. That was when Duncan noticed the first odd thing about his attacker.

He had no boots on. Just plain, uncovered feet touching the cold dirt.

The barefoot attacker slowly stood up, head hunched in the shadows, and his hands gripping his swords tight. His head turned slowly, revealing tanned skin, though his bangs still covered his eyes. Warily, he sidestepped and raised his weapons. Duncan stood up and dusted off his clothes before raising his sword. He was intrigued.

The attacker danced forward, slashing across the air. Duncan parried, spun and aimed a back fist at his head. The attacker dropped his head like water, the fist grazing his face, as he brought his other sword around towards Duncan's neck. Duncan let himself drop to the ground and kicked out at his attacker's legs. The legs flew forward, bringing the barefoot man off-balance.

The attacker gritted his teeth, sticking his sword into the ground and using his momentum to flip into the air, using his sword as a focal point. Continuing the spin, he flipped sideways, slashing his elvish sword down on Duncan's head. Duncan stepped back, the blade barely grazing his face. The attacker continued and pushed off the sword stuck into the ground. He flipped sideways across the air, his sword twirling in the air multiple times, and each time coming closer to Duncan's face.

Duncan once again dropped to the ground and rolled under his flying attacker, who landed nimbly on his feet. He spun around, holding his elvish sword before him. His human sword lay stuck into the ground behind Duncan.

"You should never let go of your sword," Duncan commented.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," the attacker replied gruffly. He lunged forward and Duncan ran forward as well.

Their steel blades clashed in the night air, sending sparks flying. The attacker meant to kill Duncan while Duncan only worked on studying this barefoot man. He had the speed and agility of an elf, yet had the physique of a human. Strange indeed. Only once did Duncan manage to drop him onto his back. And then the attacker replied in kind with an attack that Duncan had never seen before. Using his legs as momentum, he spun them across his body, kicking out wildly while slashing with his sword, all the while spinning on his free hand and on his back. Dust began to kick up around him before he jumped off his hands and landed nimbly on his feet by the fireplace. Slowly, almost wearily, he stood up straight and the light revealed his face.

Duncan's eyes widened.

Across his eyes, a purple sash was tied tightly. Across the front end, a familiar golden emblem glittered in the firelight. The familiar blazing sun within a circle that is shown throughout Ferelden. The symbol of the Maker.

"You're blind," Duncan breathed.

The attacker smiled briefly before darting forward, grabbing his human sword from its spot in the ground. Growling, he swept both swords in front of him, crossing them in front of him. Frowning, Duncan dashed forward and pushed his sword forward. Each blade clashed against each other, with Duncan's stopping both mid-swing. The blind man jerked to a stop. Duncan scoffed as he punched his gauntleted hand at the man's head.

The barefooted, blind man shouted as he fell to the ground before he quickly rolled back onto his feet. A thin line of blood dripped down his cheek as he got back onto his feet. Duncan remained silent, neither moving nor daring to breathe. He had an idea and he was willing to see if it worked.

The wind blew across the tall grass and through the leaves within the treetop. Duncan dare not make a sound as the blind man shifted his weight from foot to foot. He turned his head left and right, trying to find something. Duncan dare not move. Slowly, the blind man took a step forward, cautious and tentative. This proved Duncan's theory.

The blind man walked forward, barely brushing past Duncan's shoulder. Duncan shifted his foot. The man twitched his head. Duncan slammed the flat-end of his blade into the back of the man's knees and he crumbled to the ground with a grunt. The man tried to get up again but Duncan touched his blade to the man's throat and he stopped.

"You're very skilled," Duncan complimented. "You use the sounds around you to pinpoint your target. The sound of their breathing, the sound of their weapons cutting through the air. But when they don't move, you don't know where they are. Now, why were you following me?"

The blind man didn't answer.

"You gain nothing from being silent," Duncan continued. "All I want to know is why you're following me." The man pouted his lips a little.

"I was bored," he said roughly. "I've lived in these woods for most of my life. Not many people come through here. Farmers, travelers mostly, sometimes Dalish. But you…you smelled different. You carried yourself proudly. I wanted to know more about you."

"Why attack, then?" Duncan asked.

"The best way to know someone is to fight them," he replied. "All emotions are laid bare. I've learned a lot about you."

"Such as?"

"For an old bugger, you move pretty fast. Skilled with a blade, that's for sure. You've led a hard life. You regret something, though what, I don't know. And I don't want to know. That's personal to you and I'll respect that. You feel lost. You went out searching for something but didn't find it. So, what're you going to do now?"

"I invoke the Right of Conscription," Duncan merely proclaimed. The man froze.

"Oh, by Fen'Harel1, you're a Grey Warden, aren't you?" he breathed.

"And you're a half-elf, aren't you?" Duncan asked in return. The man breathed deeply through his nose.

"Aye, I am," he answered. "My mother was a dalish. My father was a human."

"And what is your name?" Duncan asked.

"My mother called me abelas," the blind man scoffed. "My father called me worm."

"Interesting," Duncan replied. "What do _you_ call yourself?"

"Nothing."

Duncan blinked once before stepping off of the man. The man breathed before sitting up straight, rubbing his neck. He stared in Duncan's general direction, waiting for the old man to speak. Duncan waited for the man to speak. The blind man rubbed the back of his neck. He paused.

"Dagon," he spoke softly. "You can call me Dagon."

"What does it mean?" Duncan asked.

"No idea," Dagon replied. "It just sounds interesting, I guess. I've always introduced myself as such, but it's not my real name. Just the name I chose to call myself."

"That is, in the end, what a name is," Duncan said. The man looked in his direction, the golden sun of the Maker glistening in the light.

"You want to recruit me into the Grey Wardens?" Dagon asked.

"I already have," Duncan replied.

"You spoke words to me. They hold meaning only to those who give it meaning. I don't."

"Indeed. Then if need be, I will drag you kicking and screaming all the way to Ostagar."

"You can try."

"Or I could kill you."

"Again, you can try."

Duncan smiled. Dagon was testing him, seeing how tough he really was. After a moment, Dagon rubbed the stubble growing on his chin.

"Why Ostagar? It's at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, far from civilization. Why there?"

"Because that is where the Blight will start." Dagon froze.

"Darkspawn?" Duncan nodded, knowing that Dagon couldn't see it.

"Darkspawn. With an Archdemon behind them. Commanding them. They have only one objective. To kill every man, woman and child in Thedas, be they human, elven or dwarven. Ostagar is where they will meet the combined strength of King Cailan and Teryn Loghain."

"Those names supposed to mean something? I've lived in the Southron Hills for a long time."

"King Cailan is the King of Ferelden. Teryn Loghain is his father-in-law and war leader from Gwaren. They have already clashed with darkspawn several times, but at Ostagar is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. Together, they wish to end the Blight at Ostagar, though, I'm not entirely sure they can be stopped there. That is why we need every able bodied person willing to wield a sword against the Darkspawn. That is why I recruited you."

"Getting desperate, are we?"

"The Blight always calls for desperation. Now, will you join me willingly?"

Dagon stared in the direction of the fire. He stared for a long time, with Duncan patiently waiting for his answer.

"Sure. I'll come," was all Dagon said. He gave no reason why. Duncan nodded and slowly stood up.

"Tomorrow, we will be traveling west to Ostagar. There are only a few Grey Wardens in Ferelden at the moment, but all of them are there. The Blight _must_ be stopped. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."

"Spare the drama, old man. I want to get some sleep," Dagon groaned as he slumped onto his back. In a few seconds, he was fast asleep.

Duncan smiled to himself and felt a new burning sensation rising from within. A horrible feeling of unreality that could kill at a moment's notice.

A feeling of hope.

* * *

Hey there. New story. Just an idea I've been poking around with. Not sure where it'll go yet. My "side-side project," as it were. Expect even less frequent updates.

Hey check it out, there's supposed to be a footnote down here somewhere, explaining who Fen'Harel is. Can you see it?

* * *

11 Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf – Elven lord of tricksters and bringer of nightmares.


	2. Chapter 1: The Ruined Fortress

Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware or the Dragon Age universe.

_Chapter 1: The Ruined Fortress_

Dagon walked down the dirt road in darkness and barefoot. He wasn't completely blind; he just couldn't see anything. He could hear, feel, taste and touch everything else. And he knew there was lunch before him. So he stretched out his hand into the air as he neared the tree. With one smooth movement, he grabbed an apple and twisted it off. He took a bite and could taste its freshness.

"We've entered the ruins," Dagon announced.

"That we are," replied his companion, still astounded by the blind man's ability. "You'll meet other Grey Wardens as well, though for now, you should stay in the King's encampment with the other recruits."

"There are others?" Dagon asked, avoiding a twig that would have impaled his foot had he stepped on it.

"Yes, two others," Duncan explained. "Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe and Daveth from Denerim. Both have their own skills and should be useful if they become Grey Wardens."

"We aren't Grey Wardens then."

"No. Just recruits. You become Grey Wardens when…well, you'll see."

"I'm not entirely sure I like your tone of voice."

"All will be revealed in time. Trust me, Dagon," Duncan explained. Dagon sighed.

"Guess that'll have to do for now," Dagon said. Then he perked his ears. "A group approaches. All heavily armed."

"Calm yourself," Duncan said soothingly as he saw the trio approach. His eyes widened as he recognized the man in the middle.

"Ho, there! Duncan!" called the man wearing golden armor. He had pale blue eyes and long blonde hair, with two braided parts tied behind his head. Dagon thought only one thing: he sounded young.

"King Cailan! I didn't expect-!" Duncan genuinely sounded surprised.

"A royal welcome? I was beginning to think you'd miss out on all the fun!" Cailan said with a warm smile and a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Not if I could help it, your majesty," Duncan said wearily.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan on my side after all! Glorious!" Cailan announced, his voice full of vigor and vitality. Dagon sensed confidence in his voice, though he wondered if it was overconfidence. "The other Wardens told me you found a promising recruit. I take it this is…he?"

His voice trailed off as he saw the man with the cloth around his eyes. He took a step forward and waved an arm over his eyes curiously.

"Duncan, are…are you sure?" Cailan asked.

"Trust me, your majesty," Duncan said. "He is very capable."

"I'll trust your word, Duncan," Cailan nodded. He turned to the blind man. "Ho, there, friend! Might I know your name?" He held out his hand out of habit and regretted it instantly. But to his surprise, the man reached out and took his hand.

"Dagon," the man replied. "Call me Dagon."

"Dagon," Cailan nodded. "I've heard you hail from the Southron Hills. I wasn't aware that there were any settlements there, save the Dalish."

"There aren't," Dagon stated firmly. "I lived by hunting the local wildlife and taking shelter in nearby caves."

"How long have you lived there?" Cailan asked. Dagon cocked his head in thought.

"What year is it?" Dagon asked.

"9:30," Cailan replied.

"The 30th year of the ninth age of this world," Dagon said, scratching the stubble on his chin. "The Dragon Age, is it?"

"Yes," Cailan nodded.

"Then that would mean that I've been living in the Southron Hills for 20 years," Dagon said casually. "Give or take a few."

"Amazing," Cailan breathed. "You've lived in the wilderness for 20 years. That is…simply amazing."

Dagon said nothing.

"Your majesty, I must tell you something urgent," Duncan interrupted.

"Is this about Teryn Cousland's men from Highever?" Cailan asked. "They were due to arrive around now. His son, Fergus, has been concerned."

"They won't be coming," Duncan said. "They are all dead. Slain by Arl Rendon Howe and his men when they attacked the castle." Dagon perked up a bit at this.

"_Dead?_ But, how? Why?" Cailan said, shock written in his voice.

"I know not, your majesty," Duncan replied, shaking his head. "They Arl's men were delayed and they arrived at the castle in the middle of the night. They attacked and set out to massacre the entire Cousland family. I arrived too late to help. By the time I reached the Teryn and Teryna, they were both dead and their youngest son slain. I barely escaped with my own life and had I not escaped, Howe would have told you anything."

"I can scarcely believe it!" Cailan sounded disgusted. "How can he expect to get away with this? As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring him to justice. Blood for blood."

"Yes, your majesty," Duncan bowed. Dagon said nothing.

"And the other places you went to?" Cailan asked.

"I went to the Circle Tower first," Duncan stated. "They were busy with an escaped maleficar to aide me. The mage who aided the maleficar was unaware of the blood mage's status and was promptly made Tranquil. I then went to Orzammar. When I arrived, the dwarven nobility was in disarray when one of the king's sons was convicted of kin slaying. The child was promptly sent out in the Deep Roads. Where he is now, I do not know. There was another dwarf of the casteless I had my eye on. Fought in the proving grounds and won, though when they discovered the deception, the casteless was promptly imprisoned. I tried to get to her but she was killed when she broke out of prison. I left Orzammar and went to the city of Denerim's Alienage. When I arrived, one of the nobles had kidnapped some elven lasses. Raped her. He was found dead with his head on a sword. Genitalia found…elsewhere. The elven lass was executed before I could get to her. I left Denerim and went to the Brecilian Forest looking for the Dalish. I found them and learned that they had found a mirror of Tevinter origin. It seemed connected to the Fade and was transmitting the Darkspawn taint to the surrounding areas. I destroyed it with the dalish who found it. He had become tainted with a friend. He was slain before my eyes by Darkspawn. So I moved home. And I found Dagon."

"That's…quite a journey," Cailan said in admiration. He looked over at Dagon. "The Maker sent you in our time of need."

"Sure," Dagon sighed. "That's _exactly_ what happened."

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really must return to my tent," Cailan said, ignoring his mumbling. "Loghain wishes to _bore_ me with his strategy."

"Your uncle sends words that Redcliffe forces can be here soon, your majesty," Duncan said.

"Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against these Darkspawn and tonight should be no different," Cailan said triumphantly.

"Is the battle against the Blight really been that well?" Dagon asked.

"I'm not even sure this is a true blight," Cailan stated. "There are plenty of Darkspawn on the field but alas, we see no Archdemon."

"Disappointed?" Duncan asked.

"I had hoped for a war like in the tales!" Cailan said brightly. "You know, a king leading the fight against a tainted god! But this will have to do I suppose. Now, I must go, before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

Duncan bowed while Dagon crossed his arms. He listened as the heavily armored king walked away, each footstep sending ripples through the ground and into the soles of Dagon's feet.

"He seems…young," Dagon stated.

"Yes, that's the best way to describe them, I guess," Duncan replied. "Though what he said is true. We have won several battles against the Darkspawn."

"And yet, you don't sound at all at ease," Dagon noted. Duncan merely nodded and turned towards the road, continuing down it.

"Despite our victories so far, the Darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day," Duncan spoke as Dagon followed along. "By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an Archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feelings."

"You would have him wait for Eamon?" Dagon asked.

"Yes, and the Grey Warden reinforcements from Weisshaupt and Orlais," Duncan replied. "But by then, the Darkspawn horde would have grown. It is a dangerous situation. That said we must proceed with the Joining ritual. Every new recruit must go through this ritual in order to become Grey Wardens. It is a brief ritual but some preparation is required, so we must begin soon."

"By the tone of your voice, I guess this Joining is dangerous," Dagon noted as he continued to walk.

"Yes," Duncan nodded. "I cannot say more except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary. Feel free to explore the King's encampment ahead of you. Eventually, you must find a Warden by the name of Alistair. Tell him it is time to summon the other recruits when you are ready."

"Great," Dagon sighed. Duncan looked at him.

"Why did you agree to join me?" Duncan asked. Dagon turned to him, his purple sash around his eyes gleaming in the setting sun. "When I invoked the Rite of Conscription, I had no witness. You knew that. Yet you joined. Why?" Dagon cocked his head to the side, deep in thought.

"My father used to tell me stories as a child about the Grey Wardens," Dagon explained. "I always wanted to be one. But the one thing that my father taught me was to always hold true to your oaths and obligations. When a Grey Warden asks for you help, it is your duty to help them. That's what I was always taught. So when you invoked the rite, I joined. It's that simple."

"I see," Duncan nodded. "I'll be going on ahead, then. Come see me when you're ready."

Dagon listened as he walked away. Then he approached the edge of the ruined bridge he was on, his toes nearly hanging off the edge. With his other senses he surveyed the woods below him. Deep in his heart, he knew had entered a world different from the Wilds he lived in, different from the Tower he was born in and different from the Fade would often travel. But he also knew, that his feet would guide him along without hesitation. He gripped his mother's elvish sword at his side and felt the weight of his father's sword on his back.

He would stand tall and continue to walk forward.

* * *

I'll be putting this series on indefinite hiatus. Why? Mainly because I don't really care about this story. At the moment, I find it rather boring. Even though I've planned out the story all the way to Awakenings, I just really don't care. It's not like Chains of the Past where it took me nearly an entire year of brainstorming before I started writing and it isn't like my Fable story where it's pretty much a completely different story than the game. This is almost word for word going through the entire game. Chains of the Past is doing that, but it feels different than this.

This story was just built on a whim one night when I was bored. It's not fair to you, the reader, to wait patiently for a chapter of a story that I just can't be bothered to put the actual effort to write. I apologize greatly for this. That's not to say that I won't be interested in it later on in life, but at the moment, I'd rather focus on Fable and Mass Effect, stories that spur my imagination.

I am so sorry but I simply cannot be bothered. This story will be labeled as completed and I'll focus on other things.

Once again, I am so sorry.


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